


You Wonder If You'll Make It Out Alive

by Colorful_In_BlacknWhite



Series: Awkward Situations [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (except he's a cat here), Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Author Is Bad At Dialogues, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Birthday, High School, M/M, Neighbors, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Roscoe the Jeep, Stiles Has a Crush, Stiles Stilinski Has a Bad Day, Stiles-centric, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6495064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colorful_In_BlacknWhite/pseuds/Colorful_In_BlacknWhite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Worst birthday in the history of birthdays... Ever.</p><p>Or where Stiles has a very bad day, Roscoe is an asshat who just likes to ruin everything and piss every where, and Roscoe just sneaks in to the Hale House and Stiles follows to retrieve him. Good thing the Hales aren't home, right? Right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Wonder If You'll Make It Out Alive

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Sterek fic, so please, I beg your forgiveness if characters are out of character.  
> Actually, this is my first fic here in ao 3 and **GOD** I thought I've escaped programming, but no, it has to keep on haunting me! Uggghhh! Writing here is hard...
> 
> Anyway, I just know that I got this idea from a prompt somewhere (I think), but I forgot where I got the prompt...  
> ... or maybe somebody suggested me personally...  
> ... or maybe _*le gasp*_ I just made an original story...  
>  anyway, if you can tell me if such a prompt exists (please, please, please, please, PLEASE) tell me so that I can give proper credits ( and so ao3 won't mark my work as plagiarized)
> 
> Also, STEREEEEKKK!!! _*heavy breathing*_
> 
> And also, I got the title from "The Lucky One" ('cuz I was too lazy to think of an appropriate title, urgghhh), by Taylor Swift. I was just finishing this fic when I heard this line and I was like, 'meh, good enough,'
> 
> Soooo... Yah... Read along...

Today is Stiles’ birthday.  
  
Today is Stiles’ birthday and how does he spend it?  
  
He spends it alone…  
  
Up in his room…  
  
Without his car keys (why would he need them anyway?) and Scott (who’s out on a date) and his dad (who’s on his shift **again** )…  
  
And he’s left with some day- old curly fries and a few slices of pizza that he had to reheat ‘cuz there was no way in hell was he going to put those things in his mouth stale **and** cold, and video games that he wasn’t even supposed to be playing.  
  
And Roscoe, his ever loving and adorable cat whose hobbies include coughing up his bluish- gray fur balls everywhere, and scratching and pissing on everything, especially on valuable and expensive things.  
  
This has to be the worst birthday in the history of birthdays… ever.  
  
And he can’t help but think about the shit storm this day has brought him.  
  
~~~*~~~  
  
For some reason, he was able to sleep peacefully over his alarm blaring its overly obnoxious ringing. He awoke 40 minutes before his first class, 20 minutes after his alarm started going off. He forwent showering and eating breakfast and letting himself be greeted by his dad in favor of starting up his jeep.  
  
Only, instead of taking off and getting to school with a few minutes to spare to prepare for classes and to gather his thoughts (and his breath), his trusty jeep (coincidentally dubbed as Roscoe for being ~~vicious~~ adorable) won’t even start up.  
  
With 30 minutes left, he ran to school without giving it a second thought. God knows he can’t have detention again because his dad will just ground him.  
  
On his birthday.  
  
With 10 minutes to spare, he stopped to catch his breath in front of the school. _God_ , he was so tired and sweaty and out of breath his vision became blurry and spotted. He was so disorientated that when he tried to catch up with Scott, he hadn’t realized that he was already inside school and his head made an impressive sound. The clash it made once it came in contact with the locker in front of him echoed through the halls. He was lying on the ground when Scott came in to view.  
  
Well, at least he thinks it was Scott. But he was right because it was Scott… with Kira by his side.  
  
_Of fucking course!_  
  
_‘Are you okay?’_ Kira queried, brows furrowed, etched with worry and concern laced with the tiniest bit amused.  
  
Kira, bless her soul, was worried. Scott, on the other hand..  
  
_‘Well, that’s a bad way to start your birthday,’_ Scott teased. With a groan, Stiles sat up, shooting him one helluva’ glare and Scott just offered him **his** smile. The one where he pouts while smiling together with those puppy eyes and _it’s just hard not to get mad at him with those damn puppy eyes, okay._  
  
_‘Tell me about it,’_ Stiles mumbled, rubbing his forehead.  
  
The rest of the morning had gone well. Until lunch period when Stiles slips on a banana peel lying conspicuously on the floor, sending the goop that they were supposed to call lunch all over him.  
  
After trying to clean himself up unceremoniously (because, hello? **Bad Day + Birthday + Cafeteria Experiment All Over Himself + Everyone Laughing At Him – Clean Clothes To Change Into – Derek Hale To Cheer Him Up, Even If It's Just By Stiles Staring At His Face Or His Ass = Irate Stiles** ) , he spends the rest of his classes undisturbed because everyone can see that Stiles is about to flip if one more thing goes to shit.  
  
But apparently, Harris never got the memo.  
  
With a firm voice, he called out, _’Stilinski! You look more of a trash today. Suits you,’_ Normally, everyone would have snickered but they all knew that Stiles was about to explode, so they just eyed the both of them warily.  
  
Harris was not satisfied. He wanted to humiliate the lanky teen and he was having none of it.  
  
_‘So, do tell me, what is it on your shirt?’_  
  
_‘I don’t know, sir,’_ Stiles gritted out, not really feeling it to give his usual snarkiness.  
  
_‘You don’t know?’_ he said in his most amused tone _‘Surely, you must know,’_  
  
_‘No, I don’t,’_  
  
_‘Well,’_ he grinned _‘Now we know, class, that Stilinski over here has half a brain cell a chimpanzee has,’_ he said in the smuggest voice he could half muster.  
  
_‘Fuck off, asswipe!’_ Stiles growled before he could think twice of it.  
  
Harris lost his grin and just stared at Stiles, trying to hide his shock that a student has just stood up to him.  
  
After a moment or two of silence (aside from the hushed whispers and the _ooh’s_ all around the room), Harris finally opened his mouth.  
  
_‘Detention,’_ he said in a deceivingly calm tone.  
  
_Fuck_ , Stiles thought. _Third this week, and fifth this month. So much for not being grounded on my birthday._  
  
  
  
Scott couldn’t come over, either.  
  
_‘But, now’s my chance, man,’_ Scott tried to reason with Stiles, _‘If I don’t ask Kira out now, I might never be able to get my chance,’_  
  
Stiles sighed and just gave in to those puppy eyes ( _who wouldn’t?_ )  
  
And besides, they look cute together.  
  
  
  
~~~*~~~  
  
So now, surrounded by pizza crusts and soda cans after hours of playing video games (that he wasn’t even supposed to be playing ‘cuz, _duh_ , grounded) and a few paper towels that he **_did not_** use to clean himself up after a good jerk off and got too lazy and too exhausted to throw it in the trash bin ( _yeh, no,_ no one can ever ground him from doing that), Stiles is sprawled out on the floor, fast asleep.  
  
Well, he was until he suddenly jerked and woke up.  
  
He’s got that bad feeling. That same feeling when you’re about to drift off to sleep only to remember that you’ve got unfinished homework due the next day.  
  
_But it’s a Friday,_ he internally tried to reason with himself.  
  
A soft breeze caressed the side of his face and his now - long – and – spiky hair. He turned his head to suddenly be hit with realization that Roscoe is gone…  
  
… And the window is wide open…  
  
… Which he must’ve left open…  
  
_Fuck._  
  
He stood up and looked out the window just in time to see a ball of bluish- gray fur entering the house next door.  
  
Entering the Hale House.  
  
_Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!_  
  
Realizing that his cat will probably wreck the place since his cat’s an asshat and the Hales weren’t there (Hale parents are on some business trip with Laura, Cora’s at a sleep over and Derek _**fucking** _ Hale is at some lucky guy’s pool party. Where he gets to show off those muscle. To other hormonally driven teens.So they probably won’t be arriving very soon.), he grabs his black hoodie (‘cuz _stealth mode. And also his red one got trashed by the radioactive cafeteria goop_ ) and heads out after the cat.  
  
After years of ~~stalking~~ observing Derek and his midnight escapades, he now knows that there’s a rock somewhere that holds the key to their backdoor.  
  
Which he does find.  
  
He returns the key after he uses it to open the door.  
  
He looks for Roscoe’s damage inside the house: his signature scratch marks and piss stench.  
  
Only to find the house spotless ( _except for the tacky paintings everywhere_ ). He wanders through the halls of the **huge** house, ending up in their spacious living room, admiring everything- from their Xbox and PS4 ( _‘cuz one’s not enough for them, apparently_ ) to their golden candleholders ( _seriously?! Why do they even live in Beacon Hills? I’m pretty sure they can afford to live in Beverly Hills or something_ ) by picking them up and examining them closely.  
  
  
  
Only to be interrupted by a throat being cleared behind him.  
  
Stiles jumped a few feet off the ground all the while exclaiming “Holy fucking shit!”  
  
He whirls around to see Derek **_fucking_** Hale standing there. With a small duffle bag slinging from his shoulders and his arms crossed. With one of his brows ( _sweet mother of everything that is holy_ ) raised.  
  
_How can I not hear him come in?_  
  
Stiles tries to say something- anything, really- but they just come out as splutters and gibberish. Both of which Derek can’t understand. Derek’s eyes dart from the golden candleholder Stiles is still holding on to.  
  
Stiles picks up on what Derek is trying to say and immediately tries to clarify. “What? No. No! I’m not trying to steal this. No. I, uh- I was trying to, uh- I was trying to get my cat back because he sneaked in to your house and it’s just,- he tends to scratch everything and piss everywhere and so I just followed him here so that he won’t do any of that and I got in by using the key you use every night when you get home late and, - Oh My God, I’m not a stalker, it’s just I like you and you’re so hot and broody and cool but you’re so caring and kind and we’re neighbors so I always get the chance to look at you, and, I thought you were coming home late because I thought you were out of town partying, and I _*sighs*_ I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”  
  
Derek just looked at him, a quirk on his lips that says that he was slightly amused with a tinge of a blush forming on his ears. “I don’t know,” Oh my God, his voice is so boner- inducing. ”You just confessed to me that you stalk me every night because you have a crush on me. You tell me if it’s good or not,”  
  
With a blush he’s sure is burning his face, Stiles looks at Derek and replies with a, “It is?”  
  
Derek huffs. “You don’t sound so sure there,” he teased.  
  
He fucking **teased**.  
  
Derek dropped his bag to the floor and stalked forward, towards Stiles.  
  
“I, uh-,” any further words Stiles was about to mumble was cut off by a soft press of Derek’s lips on his. It was soft and chaste and _too quick_.  
  
Derek rests his forehead on Stiles’. “I like you, too, dork,”  
  
Stiles tries to look at him, flabbergasted. “You do?”  
  
Derek just smiles and presses his lips on Stiles’ once again. It was just about to be broken ( _too quick_ ) when Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him in.  
  
It was longer than the first. It was longer and heated and sloppy with too much spit and they do not know what to do with their tongues because it was **both** their first real kiss and it was just _**perfect**_.  
  
They pulled apart after their need for air grew stronger than their need to close the gap in between them.  
  
“Roscoe’s probably up in my room,” Derek murmured after a while.  
  
“Huh?” Stiles asked, still disorientated from the kiss.  
  
Derek snorted and chuckled. “Roscoe comes here from time to time. At first, I thought he was a stray so I could keep him. But after a while, I saw him go back to your house and I figured that he was yours.  
So, I feed him treats up in my room. Sometimes, I just leave him food when I know I’ll be gone for a while, just in case he comes looking for me,”  
  
“How did he get in?” Stiles queried.  
  
“The first time? I have no idea, but I persuaded my dad to install a cat door,”  
  
Stiles looked over Derek’s shoulders and, sure enough, a cat door could be seen.  
  
_How come I didn’t notice that coming in here?_  
  
Fucking Derek Hale. “Why are you home early? Not that I’m complaining, I’m just curious,”  
  
Derek nuzzled his face into Stiles’ hair and breathed in. He lifts his head after a while.  
  
“Got tired of the party,” he hummed.  
  
They stayed that way for a moment, with Derek’s arms draped around Stiles, ( _since when has it been draped around me?_ ) only to be broken from their trance by a needy meowing. Stiles pulls back and picks up the cat. He looks back to see Derek looking back at him. “Sooo, see you tomorrow?” Stiles asked, still scared that what happened inside the Hale house was just a dream.  
  
Derek slowly pulls his lips upward. “Only if you promise me that you’ll go out with me tomorrow,”  
  
A smile found its way on Stiles' lips.“Sure,”  
  
“Pick you up at 8?” he asked hopefully.  
  
“Definitely,”  
  
As he heads out the back door, Derek calls out. “Oh, Stiles?” Stiles turns around to look at him. “Happy Birthday,”  
  
Stiles continues his merry way back his room, a smile on his face.  
  
_Best Birthday in the history of birthdays… Ever._  
  
And if Stiles totally forgot that he was grounded (meaning, no leaving the house for a week), it’s okay.  
  
He’ll just have to butter his dad up. 

**Author's Note:**

> ...well...  
> ...that happened...  
>  _*raises hands in surrender*_
> 
> Also, please forgive me for being bad at this. I know I'm horrible with words and stories and plots (and add that to the fact that this fic is absolutely rushed and is just shit) and it's just- I can't- I can't even...  
> But creative criticism is most definitely welcome... (but be gentle?)
> 
> In other news: April 8, Happy Birthday Stiles! (I think) :D


End file.
